


'cause i'm a little unsteady

by Arkham



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of Real Hockey Players
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-03-05 18:03:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18833893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arkham/pseuds/Arkham
Summary: Kent wants to scream.Seven-zero.Seven-zero.Against theBlackhawks.If he ever sees that self-satisfied smirk on Patrick Kane’s face again, he’ll smack it off.





	'cause i'm a little unsteady

**Author's Note:**

> It’s my personal goal to revive the Kent/Alexei tag a bit, so here’s another little drabble :)
> 
> This has everything you’d expect to see in a self-indulgent Courtney fic: soft hockey boys, hurt/comfort, goalie love, blackh*wk hate, sleepy makeouts, absolutely _tooth-rotting_ fluff……what more could you want?
> 
> Hover over the Russian for translations and pronunciations; they're also at the bottom if you don't want to do that.
> 
>  **Content warning(s):** Patrick Kane mention

Kent wants to scream. 

Seven-zero.

_Seven-zero_.

Against the _Blackhawks_. 

If he ever sees that self-satisfied smirk on Patrick Kane’s face again, he’ll smack it off. 

The locker room is dead silent. 

Spence looks just shy of bursting into tears and honestly, Kent feels like he might too. 

Neither of their goalie tandem had been on their game tonight—Spence let in five goals in two periods and once he’d been pulled, Jonesy let in two in the last—but there’s only so much blame that can be put on their goalies when neither offense nor the defense were performing.

It had been like watching a trainwreck in slow motion but _worse_ because Kent had been _on the train_. Hell, he’d been _conducting_ the train.

The C on his jersey always feels heavier after a game like this.

He cranks the shower as hot as it will go and the steam helps a bit, but he has to field the media scrum so he can’t stand in the spray as long as he’d like.

He focuses on the scratch of the tag on the back of his dress shirt as he slogs through the questions. _What was it that the Blackhawks were doing right? What was it that the Aces were doing wrong? Why did Robbins fall apart in the second? Do you think you might have made a comeback if Robbins hadn’t let in such easy goals?_

Actually, Kent has some things to say about that last one.

“Spence was doing the best he could out there. Everyone has off nights and yeah, maybe he wasn’t playing as well as normal, but no one was. Not a single Ace was to blame because we all were. Hockey is a team sport and tonight, our team failed. Not because our goalie let in some easy goals, but because we all weren’t playing our game. I look forward to playing the Blackhawks in Chicago in a few weeks and showing them how the Las Vegas Aces really play.”

There’s a sudden uptick of questions after that, but Gemma is waving him off with rolling eyes and a secret grin.

The drive back to his apartment gives Kent some time to decompress, but mostly he zones out and listens to the Top 40s hits on a low enough volume that it’s more background noise than anything else.

His apartment is dark save for the soft light leaking into the hallway from the living room. Kent’s shoulders slump as he toes out of his shoes and loosens the tie around his neck. He’s not in the mood to deal with anyone right now, let alone an Alexei that’s been cooped up for a week with a shoulder injury.

Still, his feet lead him towards the light.

Alexei is there, sprawled across the couch with a half-empty glass of water just out of reach. The TV is still on but muted, and Kent has to watch a replay of Toews’ second goal before wincing and glancing away.

Alexei is quiet and Kent tries valiantly to keep his composure but Alexei holds out his arms and beckons him in and Kent falls apart.

He makes a quiet noise and collapses into Alexei’s lap. His traitorous, traitorous eyes feel wet and he presses his face into Alexei’s chest, not particularly caring that he’ll mess up Alexei’s shirt.

Alexei’s thumb rubs in small circles on the back of Kent’s neck and some of the tension begins to drain from Kent’s shoulders.

“Is just one game,” Alexei murmurs.

“I know,” Kent replies, voice muffled by the fabric.

“You do better against Predators tomorrow.”

“I know.”

“Is not your fault for loss.”

“I know.”

Alexei falls silent again. The TV causes the lighting in the room to flicker and Kent curls his head further into Alexei’s chest. Alexei presses a kiss to Kent’s temple.

They sit like that for a while, just breathing each other’s air until Kent feels like he’s all cried out. It’s…nice. Kent feels small again, feels like, just for a moment, some of the crushing responsibility has been lifted off his shoulders. Here he’s not a captain, not a Stanley Cup winning hockey player; here’s he’s just Kent Parson and that’s…that’s enough.

“I’m sorry,” Kent says, scrubbing at his eyes and leaning back.

“No sorry,” Alexei replied, fixing him with a stern look. He brings a hand up to curl carefully around Kent’s jaw, his thumb rubbing a remaining tear from Kent’s cheekbone. “Is good to cry. Better than to keep bottled up.”

Whether he knows it or not, Alexei is echoing the exact words of his therapist, and Kent has to laugh. It comes out a weak chuckle, but Alexei’s eyes soften.

Alexei leans forward then and presses a careful kiss to the corner of Kent’s mouth. He leans back. “Bed?”

“Yeah.”

Kent strips carefully out of his clothes once they’re there, tossing the suit in the bin to be washed. Alexei takes his time in the bathroom and Kent takes a moment to look at himself in the closet mirror. His eyes are still red-rimmed but he feels infinitely more grounded in his Rimouski sweats and Mashkov shirsey than he did in his game-day suit.

Alexei is in bed when Kent steps out of the closet and all Kent wants to do is curl up on top of him and sleep for days. He forces himself to go through his nightly routine before finally, _finally_ , he collapses onto Alexei.

Alexei’s arms around him are solid and warm and Kent would stay in them forever if he could. He shifts and presses a lazy kiss to the corner of Alexei’s mouth, then another closer to center. Alexei kisses back just as softly. 

It’s like that for a while—lazy kisses exchanged. Alexei’s hand curls up the back of Kent’s shirt and Kent’s fingers find their way up to thread through Alexei’s hair. Kent shifts again so he’s boxing Alexei down with his thighs and Alexei sighs into the kiss. He can feel Alexei’s hardening erection through the layers of fabric, and he lets the kiss deepen, swipes his tongue into Alexei’s mouth.

Kent reaches his hand down to palm at Alexei’s crotch through his boxer briefs and Alexei bats his hand away. 

“Let me take care of you,” Alexei rumbles, accent heavier than it usually is.

Kent doesn’t protest, just leans back in to press another kiss to Alexei’s lips, then a line of kisses across his cheek to his jaw.

Alexei shoves his hand down Kent’s sweats and Kent pulls back with a breathy gasp when Alexei strokes his length once, twice. He smears some precome across his palm to make the slide a little bit slicker and it’s still a bit rough, but it feels so, _so_ good.

Alexei’s grip tightens and his pace speeds up as he picks up a rhythm and Kent moans quietly into the side of Alexei’s neck.

There’s no teasing, not tonight—just the steady slide of skin on skin and Kent pressing sloppy kisses down Alexei’s neck. Then Alexei is pulling his hand away and Kent makes a noise of protest.

“Shh, shh,” Alexei murmurs, leaning up to capture Kent’s mouth in a kiss. He flips them gently so Kent’s on his back and kisses him again, keeps kissing him as he rucks up Kent’s shirt, pulls down Kent’s sweats and both of their boxer briefs, and is wrapping one massive hand around both of their dicks.

“ _Ah_ ,” Kent whines into Alexei’s mouth and Alexei huffs out a breath in response. Kent arches his back into it and he knows he won’t last long, feels the pressure building in his abdomen. He tightens his fingers in Alexei’s hair and comes with a quiet gasp before going boneless under Alexei.

Alexei takes his hand away from Kent’s softening dick and focuses on himself, picking up the pace as he jerks himself off. It’s no more than a minute longer before Alexei grunts and Kent feels the splatter of come streak across his stomach.

Alexei reaches blindly for tissues in the dark and does a haphazard job of wiping them both off before tossing the wad in the general direction of the trash.

They shift around each other then, Alexei maneuvering Kent around until he has him just where he wants him—curled against his chest with one of Alexei’s arms reaching around and pinning Kent there.

Kent times his breathing to the steady rise and fall of Alexei’s chest and even more pressure begins to fade away. He curls further back into Alexei, fingers twining into the hand Alexei has firmly on his chest.

Just as Kent’s mind begins to dull, Alexei murmurs into the back of his neck.

“I love you, **Птичка**.”

The corners of Kent's mouth soften as he feels the lull of sleep tugging him under.

“I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

>  **Птичка** = (PTEECH-ka; “little bird”)
> 
> i have a [fandom tumblr](https://leviathan.tumblr.com) and a [hockey tumblr](https://mayorwagner.tumblr.com). Feel free to send patater prompts to my fandom tumblr!


End file.
